Even The Stars Are Ill At Ease
by Sunshinecackle
Summary: Evil Morty isn't totally sure what to do about his desire to have a 'Proper Rick', while Doofus Rick is finding that he might have been forced to forget something important.


**Title:** Even The Stars Are Ill At Ease  
 **Author:** Daisy  
 **Fandom:** Rick And Morty  
 **Setting:**  
 **Pairing:** Doofus Rick/Evil Morty, J19ζ7 Rick/Evil Morty, Gazorpazorpian Rick/Evil Morty, C137 Rick/Evil Morty, Evil Rick/Evil Morty, Riq IV/Evil Morty, Storage Rick/Evil Morty, Miami Rick/Miami Morty, Miami Rick/Investment Rick/Miami Morty, Super Morty Fan Morty/Miami Morty, Punk Morty/Miami Morty, Greaser Morty/Miami Morty, Punk Morty/Greaser Morty/Miami Morty, Dreamy Rick/Novelist Rick, Dreamy Rick/Punk Morty, Novelist Rick/Greaser Morty, C137 Rick/C137 Morty, Birdperson/Tammy Gueterman, Abradolf Lincoler/Nancy, Mr. Lucius Needful/Summer Smith  
 **Characters:** Doofus Rick, Evil Morty, Gazorpazorpian Rick, C137 Rick, Evil Rick, Riq IV, Storage Rick, Miami Rick, Investment Rick, Dreamy Rick, Novelist Rick, Miami Morty, Punk Morty, Greaser Morty, Super Morty Fan Morty, C137 Morty, Birdperson, Tammy Gueterman, Abradolf Lincoler, Nancy, Mr. Lucius Needful, C137 Summer Smith, Doofus Jerry, Doofus Beth, Doofus Summer, Doofus Snuffles  
 **Genre:** Romance/Angst/Drama/Hurt/Comfort  
 **Rating:** E  
 **Chapters:** 1/?  
 **Word Count:** 3522  
 **Type of Work:** Chapter Story  
 **Status:** Incomplete  
 **Warnings:** Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Het, Straight, AU - Canon Divergent, Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Gore, Child Abuse, Incest, Grandfather/Grandson Incest, Selfcest, ABO Dynamics, Alpha!Doofus Rick, Omega!Evil Morty, Some Universes are ABO and others are not, Most pairings are just mentioned, More Tags To Be Added  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
 **Summary:** Evil Morty isn't totally sure what to do about his desire to have a 'Proper Rick', while Doofus Rick is finding that he might have been forced to forget something important.

 **AN:** Alright guys, so like… I have this whole headcanon surrounding Doofus Rick being Evil Morty's original Rick. I'll let the story tell itself, instead of spoiling things, but some things to note: Evil Morty's Snuffles never left entirely, he stayed with Morty and kept his mecha suit. Doofus Rick is a trauma therapist that sometimes works with the Rick police/military forces, especially with victims of Ricks' plots. He deals with a lot of Rickless Mortys, too.

 **Chapter One: I Woke Up To Something In My Head** ****

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Sunlight filtered into the house through the big picture window downstairs, and everything seemed cheery and bright save for the young teen's bedroom. The lights were off, blackout curtains drawn, and he lay snuggled down underneath his six blankets, not ready to leave his cocoon of warmth and safety. It brought a sweet smile to the lips of the elder male as he entered the room with a wooden tray full of food in hand.

"Morty?" A smile brighter than a thousand suns met his eyes, the second one slowly refocusing with a few mechanical whirs. Those buck teeth, he'd know them anywhere.

"Rick…?" He whispered, slowly pushing up onto his knees, one hand holding up his weight as the other dug the heel into his false eye. "What are you- I thought you were- Do you remember…?"

"I made you breakfast, silly." Rick absently flicked some hair out of his face, setting the ornate little tray down in front of his Morty and ruffling his wild, sleep-destroyed curls. "I was thinking maybe later, we could go out. You know, we need some more cesium for something we're working on, and I thought maybe I could take you out for lunch. Anywhere you like, little buddy! Today's your special day." Leaning forward, he pressed his lips softly to Morty's forehead, before getting up and dusting off his pants.

"Wh-where are you going?" For a second, he couldn't hide the desperation on his face, the terror in his tone, and his eyes must have looked pained because Rick sat back down beside him, tugging him into his lap.

"Oh, baby, don't look so sad… I need to go grab my breakfast so I can eat with you." His voice was soft, sincere, and something about it calmed the racing heart of the boy in his arms.

"I just… Don't want to lose you." Morty imparted shyly, the brighter aura of his mechanical eye shining in the dimly lit room. It made the red on his cheeks even more obvious, and he looked away as another kiss was pressed to his cheekbone.

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Morty, you know that." He smiled softly, slowly picking the other up and setting him beside his tray of food, getting up again. "I'll be right back."

Casting a glance at the pancakes with strawberry glaze, the bacon and egg baked thingy that Rick insisted was the better version of both worlds, the orange juice and milk sitting side by side, he found himself sighing. How could anyone want this to stop?

With a little sigh, he tucked into his orange juice, eyelids slipping closed. Seconds later, he was jarred out of his joy by the entire room shaking. Debri fell from the ceiling and his shocked eyes flitted around the room. Hot, wet tears ran rampant down his cheeks as he heard a sob of anguish from downstairs; he could feel his hands quaking, the burn of bile in his-

"Morty." An almost robotic voice managed to sound concerned. A hot, red tongue swiped over his cheek several more times before the brunet shot up in bed, smacking his head on the mechanical contraption his dog resided in. Tears slipped down his cheeks but it had nothing to do with the pain in his head.

"Sn-Snowball?" He questioned, slowly, eyes narrowing, the right one whirring as it shot about the room. He wasn't in that sun drenched house anymore, his bed was lumpy and cold despite him sleeping in the same spot all night, and the only other living being worth his time in this place was his dog. The cold metal of the room he was in only helped to amplify the loneliness he felt as he absently reached forward to pet the fluffy dog's chest, the only spot his neural suit didn't totally cover.

"It appears you were dreaming of him again, Morty." The dog informed, carefully preparing the suit for exit so that he could hop up onto the bed. The little white Maltese crossed the gray blanket to curl up in his friend's lap, licking at his chin again before watching him carefully. "If you need it, I am here for emotional support."

Chuckling a little bit, albeit mirthlessly, Morty's hands lovingly pet down the fluffy dog's fur, scratching the base of his tail and rubbing along his spine. The human was so good at getting all the spots his companion couldn't quite reach, and it always made him pant a smile.

"I might just need to go see hi-" A pause, and he gulped, "My therickpist again."

"You cannot hide forever." Snowball responded, those beady eyes looking up into Morty's, "He will find out somehow. His entire livelihood-"

"I know. Until then, I have to-"

"Make do with other Ricks? Let them treat you poorly so you feel more like one of yourselves?"

"...You'd make a great therick- Therapist, Snuffles." But it wasn't the most praising tone he'd ever heard. Snowball bared his teeth for a moment, before huffing and closing his eyes, sighing gently.

"Go, then. I've made breakfast, but I know you'd rather not eat before you go to the Citadel. I suppose that means more bacon for me."

"You eat all the bacon you want, Snuffles. You're the best friend a Morty could ask for." Kissing his head, he let the dog make his way back to his suit before getting out of bed and stretching. It would be a long day, most likely, and he wanted to at least look a little less like he'd gotten three hours of sleep this week and hadn't remembered what a shower was for at least half of that time. It was hard to be involved in a project as large as the one he was busy with, and maybe this particular trip was long, long overdo.

Eyepatch in place, he settled into the scalding water, letting it soak away his fatigue even as he found himself wishing he could crawl back into bed. The desire to go see the man that plagued his dreams was enough to spur his leaden limbs to moving, and he took the bare minimum of showers before he was hopping into his usual shirt and pants. White vans on his feet and black socks climbing up his calves, he closed his eyes as he tried to think about what to do about the circles under his eyes. A glance at the clock told him he needed to go quickly, so he changed his mind about doing anything and simply grabbed his portal gun out of the box labeled 'PORN' in his closet.

It took less time to portal to the Citadel of Ricks than it probably should have, and he was thankful that he wasn't the only solo Morty running around. All he had to do was go to Sanchez And Associates, which would take him six streets north, four to the right and down the last one, across from the McRick's that he'd probably eat lunch at. It was a simple enough walk, melded in with the other Mortys with his eyepatch in his pocket, and when he finally arrived at the old hotel, he took the stairs to avoid any awkward elevator moments.

Upon arriving on the third floor, even he had to admit he was a little out of breath, panting as he rest against the wall. A couple other Mortys passed him, chatting about this, that and the other thing, giggling like a gaggle of girls. It set his jaw so tight his eyes hurt, and he had to rub them, the whirring of his right eye kicking up another notch as he rolled it up and back. When it came back to a normal setting, he could see through the wall like an X-Ray, trying to find his purpose for coming here in the first place.

"...Hey, what the fuck are you doing here again, kid? Weren't you just-"

"Shut it, Rick." Morty snapped, eyelids narrowing dangerously as he snarled his next words, "I thought it was that Morty's day to work? Didn't realize there was going to be a secricktary today."

"I'm the fucking _secretary_ today, you little shit. Don't bite my balls off, Jesus. Who are you here for?"

Leveling a glare on the scowling man behind the desk, Morty finally sighed and rolled his eyes before closing them. Breathe. That was what he'd been instructed whenever his temper was too high. Most Ricks weren't smart enough to listen, but he still had that Morty disposition, despite the fact.

"J19ζ7 Rick." There was a look settled on him before the Rick laughed around the mouth of the bottle he was drinking from.

"Doofus? You Mortys sure love him as a therapist." He almost sounded incredulous for a long moment before he shrugged, "And which Morty are you?"

"J499." It was a lie, one he knew well enough, but it was easy to tell, at this point. At least he was believed. It had been awfully hard getting a new dimension, but finding one that had a dead Rick and Morty was a lot easier than he'd thought. Assuming someone else's identity was always easier said than done.

"...You don't have an-"

"I know. I just had a shitty… Experience, and he said that whenever I need him, I could go see him."

"He says that to-"

"Shut _up_ , asshole." Morty sat on the little couch in the waiting room, facing the door, and pulled out his phone. Flipping through a few things, here, there, then another, he finally found himself relaxing a little. It was one, two, three Mortys and a Rick that walked out of that back office before he finally saw the blue-haired angel that would lead to a bit more of a restful night for him. With any luck.

"Hey, there, Morty. Are you ready?" His kind smile and soft blue eyes were enough to coax Morty's heavy limbs into movement, and he offered a small smile as he nodded. Feeling the other's hand in between his shoulderblades leached ten million years of stress and anxiety from his soul, and he sighed gently.

"Y-yeah, uh… I-"

"You don't have to say anything until you're comfy on the couch." The way he said it was more something a father or a friend would, and Morty felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe this was a mistake.

Or, maybe, he would be able to get this nipped in the bud totally.

Once they were behind the closed door, Rick seated himself calmly in his usual chair across from the loveseat Morty spread out on like he owned the place. What he wouldn't have given to lay his head in the other's lap… But he had to knock that thought out of his head before he said something stupid.

"So, I heard you had an emergency." Rick's voice was soft, his tone sympathetic, and his eyes gentle. Every time Morty exposed himself to this, it just made everything worse. Here he was, sitting with the man of his _literal_ dreams, and all he could do was shrug and try not to stutter.

"I… I- I keep having these… These dreams. About someone that I used to know, and I… I shouldn't… The dreams are…" If only he could finish a sentence like he could a Morty torture device. "The um… Themes behind the dreams can be… Troubling. Not necessarily bad, but… I shouldn't feel this way about h- This person. Sometimes they are… Sexual in nature, and others they are… Almost mundane."

The whole time, Rick took quiet notes on his legal pad, keeping his eyes on the other as he listened intently. Nodding a little here and there, he sat forward just slightly, pressing his elbows on his knees and tenting his hands against his mouth. The gesture was oddly attractive, and brown eyes flitted to the ceiling, the boy closing in on himself where he laid on the couch. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he scooted so that he was sitting in the corner of it, he almost looked guilty. When he didn't continue, Rick nearly chirped his first question.

"Regardless of what happens in these dreams, do you remember how they make you feel?" His head tipped to the side, knocking a bit of his dorky bowl cut into his eyes. Morty wrung his hands as he thought about it. He was almost afraid to say what he actually came up with.

"They… Make me feel safe. Like I'm only at home in my dreams." He began, closing his eyes and trying to think of how to word the rest of it, "It's like… I… I don't know, you know? I feel… Happy. And then… I wake up and I'm sad. Snuffles has been great about helping me but he… Doesn't quite understand, I don't think."

"Well, the important thing to note, I think, is that these dreams shouldn't give you excess anxiety. Just like Snowball, you take comfort in them. It's rather likely that you do not feel anything for this person, but you need to feel safe and happy in your waking hours. Being as you know this person, or did at some point, you probably have a heavy connection to them that you might not consciously be aware of."

Everything that Rick was saying seemed to cement things in place for him. Morty _did_ crave happiness and that feeling of safety and love that the dreams provided him, and he mourned their absence like he were addicted. Maybe it was wrong of him to want to get up, to snuggle into the other's lap and have his hair pet, but there it was. The urge was sitting in the black pit of his heart, tugging his heartstrings like it might pull the right one to get him to move. Instead, he stayed firmly planted, rolling his fidget cube in his palm.

"So… I should maybe… S-seek out a… A Rick or something?" His cheeks were hot as the question left his lips, and he felt itchy in a way that only wanting out of one's own skin could bring about.

"You said that yours died a while back," Rick responded quietly, writing something down before looking up again, "Perhaps you need one in your life. Many Mortys are fine without their Ricks, but it isn't uncommon to find one side of the other craving the attention of their opposite."

Some part of Morty wished that this Rick understood what he was saying. Craving the attention of a Rick? That, he figured, was probably true. Which was why there was a Gazorpazorpian Rick in an underground part of his lab back on the planet he'd taken up as his. He'd picked up and dropped so many Ricks in his work, used them as shields and reasons to go this place or that one. He let them think they were in control, he turned them into cyborg freaks like himself, all in an attempt to gain some kind of acceptance. The ones he controlled didn't give him what he wanted of their own free will. The ones mostly governed by instinct didn't give him a challenge.

And, at the end of the day, none of them were _his_ Rick.

But it seemed the devil was always in the details.

"Plus, you said you were from dimension J499, right?" Now, Rick was considering something out the window of his office, closing his eyes and sighing slowly out of his mouth. "That _is_ a dimension that deals heavily in Alpha/Omega dynamics, doesn't it? It _would_ explain your desire to have a connection with a Rick," For a moment, he paused, sniffing the air before pausing, "Particularly an.. An Alpha."

Well, J19ζ7 most certainly wasn't _wrong_. J499, much like J19ζ7, was a universe with heavy Alpha/Omega dynamics, and Morty was, despite himself, an Omega. With Omega _needs_. And his body had figured out long before he had that there was a particular Alpha that he wanted. There were studies, some of which he and Snuffles had discovered on their own, that there were some pairs that were True Mates. It made sense, in his head, that his body desired his mate. But the eighteen year old was far from a virgin, and nothing had ever taken.

Maybe he needed to stop running.

"Yes… I suppose I could use a Rick with a… With a knot, huh?" He murmured softly, finally tossing his eyes over at the other. How could Rick be so… So calm? Could he not feel how they were drawn to one another? Was he so brainwashed that even his heart couldn't possibly remember him? The mind-wipe gun that he used shouldn't have erased everything like this… Maybe he was repressing things, too.

"Are you uh, implying that you frequently sleep with… With other Ricks?" There was something in the elder's tone that awakened something in him that had his heart pounding, and he shrugged a little.

"I…" A lie. He had to tell a lie. Even if the only one he could think of wasn't entirely untrue. "I make money working at one of the um… M-Morty brothels here in the Citadel." At least he had the decency to sound properly shamed. Rick's eyes jumped to the other's face and for a long moment, he looked a little disturbed.

"Do you enjoy it?" He finally asked, his smile soft again, less upset looking, and he reached forward for his water bottle. The way he gulped it down was telling of something, but Morty wasn't entirely sure what.

"I enjoy being close to Ricks that want to… Be with a Morty. I enjoy sex, as well, like most healthy adults do. It shouldn't matter that…" That he always felt strangely empty afterwards. It didn't matter how full his belly was, how much he'd been given, how he'd been used and claimed and left with his entire body full… His heart felt empty.

"It shouldn't matter that what, Morty?" Reaching over the sparse space between them, he rested a gentle hand on the other's shoulder and the younger man wanted to scream. Skin on skin contact was worse than anything through his shirt, and he had to force himself not to whimper.

"It shouldn't matter that I want more than physical attention."

"Everything that you desire and need emotionally is just as important as physical needs." Rick was pulling his hand back again, nodding slightly as he continued, "Never neglect these things. Your body knows what it needs."

"Sometimes I wonder if it does." Morty responded, feeling lightning surge through every nerve ending as the other's hand slid up his arm to his elbow. This was embarrassing. Shivers ran down his spine and he slowly sat up, curling in on himself, though there was a scent of sad satisfaction in his scent.

A familiar memory of that particular mixture of lavender, gunpowder and green tea flickered over Rick's brain, and for a long moment, he just stared. There was a brightness to the flavor of it, and it soaked into the air around them in a way that had him breathing in deep through his mouth to avoid doing something stupid. Morty seemed to notice just what was going on, and suddenly rose to his feet.

"Th-thanks, um. I… That's probably good, I know you have other patients." They had barely talked for half an hour, but the room was stuffy and he needed to get out onto the street. Maybe he would treat himself to something from the bakery down the street, instead of his usual chicken nuggets at McRick's. Before the other could stop him, he was out of the room and practically running down the hallway that lead to the lobby. Pushing out the door and into the hallway, he charged down the stairs like there was a fire on his heels.

Outside was both a blessing and a curse; he could breathe again, safely and without compromise, but it was too bright. Scrunching up his eyes as he greedily sucked in air like a man drowning, Morty found himself leaning on one of the pillars that held up the building he'd just run out of. His spine screamed at him to rest for a moment, and he knew better than to push himself when it hurt this bad. A glance up at the window of the room he'd just been in showed a concerned J19ζ7 watching him, a hand pressed to the window. For a second, he was sure that there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but the younger couldn't be bothered with that.

The bakery furthest from his therapist's office was in the main lobby of the Council Chamber, and it was close to a place where he could lose himself for a while. After all, that was probably what he needed the most.

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 **AN:** Oh man. xD I honestly don't know how this got so long. O.o; But hopefully it's worthwhile.


End file.
